


tidings of comfort and joy

by la_topolina



Series: Found Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Good Severus Snape, Light Angst, Mentor Severus Snape, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina
Summary: Severus Snape hates Christmas. And his first Christmas as four-year-old Harry Potter's guardian won't change his mind. Or so he thinks.Written for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Club's 2020 Winter 12 Drabble Challenge.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Found Magic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894882
Comments: 48
Kudos: 122





	1. crackling

**Author's Note:**

> This set of drabbles takes place in my Found Magic Alternate-Universe. In this timeline, Severus adopts four-year-old Harry Potter from the Dursleys. He also becomes Petunia’s blood brother (via magic spell) in order to maintain the protection that Harry receives from living with one of Lily’s kin. This story is set during the first Christmas Harry spends at Hogwarts, about four months after Severus adopts him.

Severus Snape hated Christmas. He hated the parties. He hated the small talk. He hated that this one wretched day carried with it the expectation of good will towards those whom you hated on the other three hundred and sixty-four.

This year, the weather seemed to agree with him. The constant rain had deprived Hogwarts of an autumn of orange and crimson. The relentless drops had beaten the leaves from the trees, depositing them on the ground in a disgusting mush when they ought to have crunched and crackled beneath his feet. 

Now the trees were barren, and the earth was covered with a layer of filth and mud that refused to freeze.

Any other year, he would have gloated to see the glum faces of his colleagues and students as they drew up their cloaks to dash through the frigid rain that never quite turned to snow. But this year, his schadenfreude was tarnished by one particularly glum face. The sight of it battered the at the frosty battlements encasing his heart, until he knew it was only a matter of time before the fissures Harry Potter had beaten there would bring the entire fortress down in a melted ruin.

Who would have thought a four-year-old child could wreak such ingenuous havoc? 


	2. dreary

On the night before Christmas, Severus sat marking scrolls at his desk. It was mind-numbing work. Like all unpleasant tasks, he preferred to complete it promptly rather than wrestle with the demons of anticipation beforehand. The fire had dwindled down to a few, anemic coals. The windows, charmed to display the weather outside, revealed a world of insipid gray.

Harry was perched on the window seat, looking out of the enchanted glass at the dismal sky. Now and again he puffed on the pane. When it was nicely fogged, he traced stick figures on the glass; always in sets of three. 

“Look, Uncle Sev’rus,” he said. “It’s me, and Mummy, and Daddy. We’re making a Christmas tree.”

Merlin save him from tawdry Christmas decorations. “Remarkable, Harry.”

“We’ll sing a song later.”

And from sentimental Christmas songs too! “Perhaps you’d best sing it to yourself.”

“ _Deck the walls with hows of holly, fa-la-la-la-la-da-da-da-da_ ,” the boy sang.

This would never do. “Exceptional, Harry. That’s quite enough.”

Harry mercifully stopped singing. Before Severus could refocus his mind on his marking, the silence of the room was once again muddled…with the sound of tears. Soon Harry was curled up in a tiny ball, sobbing until his whole body trembled.

Severus laid down his quill and took a deep breath, as though some patience might enter his body along with the oxygen.

“Harry, whatever is the matter?”


	3. family

It was rare for Harry to cry. But when he did, the boy’s tears filled Severus with waves of agitation and the blinding need to _fix_ whatever the damned problem was. 

It was…unnerving. Severus did _not_ consider himself a nurturing person. Unless you counted plants. 

Plants that never talked.

Or cried.

He sat down beside Harry on the window seat, and Harry launched himself into Severus’s awkward embrace. Severus doubted he would ever feel comfortable with this requirement of parenting.

“I…I…can’t remember!” sobbed Harry.

“What is it you can’t remember?” asked Severus.

“I can’t remember what Mummy sounds like. It’s all gone away. I used to know her voice what it sounds like and it’s all _gone_.”

Severus could feel one of those fissures in the armor protecting his heart crack as Harry’s wailing deteriorated into pitiful, broken whimpers. If Harry were older, Severus might risk pulling forth one of the boy’s memories for the child to view in a Pensieve. But, young as he was, memory magic was simply too dangerous to attempt. And all of Severus’ memories of Lily and James were tarnished by emotions better left buried.

The picture on the windowpane evaporated along with the fog Harry’s breath had created. As the glass cleared, the night sky appeared. Polaris shone brightly now in the inky depths, winking at them as though she held a great secret.

“Get your coat, Harry,” Severus ordered. “We’re going for a walk.”


	4. star

Harry was still sniffling when they emerged from the castle. He clung to Severus’s hand as they walked towards the black shores of the lake. The boy wiped his nose on Severus’s sleeve. The potions master grimaced, but the child was too upset to bother with unimportant details like hygiene. 

When they reached the muddy edge of the water, Severus set Harry on a damp bench. The water distorted the reflections of the stars above, bending and twisting them into oblique slashes of light. 

“Do you see that star, Harry?” asked Severus as he sat down next to the child.

Harry’s only response was a loud sniffle.

Severus soldiered on, pointing to the sky. “Just there. It’s the brightest star tonight.”

Tears still trickling down his cheeks, Harry at last looked upwards. After a moment, he stretched his little hand towards Polaris’ twinkling brightness. 

“Star?” Harry asked.

“Precisely,” Severus replied. “It’s called Polaris.”

“Polaris.”

“Polaris has been here since before either of us were born. It will be here after we are gone. I should think that, wherever your mother is now, she can see its light.”

“In Heaven.”

Severus didn’t believe in Heaven, but he was not so much an ass that he would dispute a grieving child. 

“Yes,” he said. “If you speak to Polaris, I suspect it will be so good as to pass a message on to your mother.” 

Harry considered, then called, “Hello Polaris! Tell Mummy I miss her.”


	5. tree

They sat watching the stars for a long time, until the warming charm Severus had cast dissipated. The night wind began to moan, bringing with it a chill that numbed the fingers and the toes. 

“Say goodnight to Polaris, Harry,” Severus said, standing up and stamping his feet to return feeling to them.

“Good night, Polaris,” Harry called. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Their progress back to the castle was inhibited by Harry’s constant stopping to wave at the star. Severus’ patience wore thin, but he could not bring himself to curb the boy. When they finally reached the entrance, they found Hagrid dragging pine trees into the Great Hall two at a time.

“Trees!” cried Harry. He ran to one leaning against the stone wall and inhaled deeply. “Smells good.”

“Hello, Harry. Professor Snape,” said Hagrid as he returned to collect another pair of trees. “Ain’t it past your bedtime?”

“Hi, Hagrid,” Harry said, still petting the soft needles of the tree. “Smells good.”

“They do, don’ they?” Hagrid replied. “You can have that one, if you like.”

Harry looked at Severus with wide, imploring eyes.

Another of the fissures in Severus’ armor cracked.

“I suppose we’ll have to take it now,” Severus said. “Come, Harry. It’s late.”

“Bye, Hagrid,” Harry said, beaming. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome Harry. G’night,” Hagrid replied.

Severus bit his tongue, trapping the _Bah Humbug_ that threatened to escape.


	6. spice

In spite of the lateness of the hour, it seemed only fitting that they decorate the unwanted tree with baubles instead of going to bed. Severus spent a long time charming cinnamon sticks and star anise together into fanciful shapes for Harry to hang from the waiting branches. Several vials and bottles were sacrificed to the cause; filled with blue and gold fire and nestled securely on the boughs where they could dance amid the green. 

When they finished, Harry raced madly around the room, singing and clapping. “ _O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!_ ”

A headache began to bloom behind Severus’ eyes, but he let Harry dance until the boy tired himself out with the effort. The juniper, cinnamon, lemon, and licorice made a heady perfume, with which even Severus’ jaded palate could find no fault.

When the child was yawning more than he was singing, Severus said, “It’s time to sleep now.”

Harry was too tired to argue. 

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” he said as Severus tucked him into bed.

_Severus, you’re a sentimental fool_. “Yes, Harry. So it is.”


	7. blizzard

The following morning Severus woke at an ungodly hour, even for him. His bones regretted the lost sleep, but it did do wonders for his patience to have a silent moment or two before Harry sprang out of bed, ready to tear through the day. He coaxed the sleeping coals in the sitting room fireplace to life with a silent charm, and set a kettle of water to boiling for the sharp, bitter tea he preferred. 

As he stirred cream into his over-steeped cup, he wandered to the window seat, and pulled back the curtain to look at the predawn sky. The stars from the night before were completely blotted out by heavy, gray clouds, and the muddy earth was at last covered with a blanket of pristine snow. Flakes gusted down in frantic corkscrews like an overeager student carelessly dumping fistfuls of candytuft petals into a cauldron, heedless of the fate of the elixir inside.

A book sat on his knee, but he neglected it in favor of sipping the hot brew in his cup, and watching the white run riot over the grounds. No doubt the child would insist they go out as soon as the storm let up. When the time came for Harry to make this demand, Severus would likely grumble. 

But now he allowed himself the ghost of a smile, thinking of how delighted Harry would be to wake to a frozen paradise.


	8. fleece

The sun rose brightly on that Christmas morning. Its rays bounced gaily off the whiteness covering the earth, blinding Severus until his eyes watered. Harry seemed impervious to the light as he tromped through the driven snow. Wrapped up in waterproof robes and oversized boots in a sensible navy—along with hat, scarf, and mittens of cherry-colored fleece—the child resembled a fat blue marshmallow gilded with red. Every other step he would fall, and lie in the fluffy drifts, laughing until Severus pulled him to his feet.

The winters in Cokeworth had been a drab monotone, usually covered in sleet and grime. When it had deigned to snow at all, the powdery flakes had turned to slushy piles of muck the instant they’d touched the ground—dirty shadows of the fairy spell that decked the earth of Hogwarts in its midwinter sleep.

A Christmas miracle—or curse—dissolved Severus’s customary reserve, and he found himself building snow people for Harry’s amusement. Soon the potion master’s back ached, and his fingers were frozen inside gloves too thin for the weather and the work. A charm of Severus’ own devising set the snow people dancing for the child’s amusement.

Harry beat a path in the snow as he toddled in excited circles around the finished creations, the cherry-red scarf that Charity had knit him flapping behind. 


	9. travel

Severus was not a man of faith. Before Harry, he’d taken his turn supervising the students at chapel with detached indifference; and never thought about the ritual otherwise. But Harry loved church. The boy stared at the decorations in the chapel with rapt attention, listened to the readings and the sermons of the minor canon (although he peppered Severus with questions throughout), and sang along with the choir, mimicking the lyrics the best he could. 

This morning, as the minor canon droned on in the incomprehensible words of the evangelist, Harry tugged at Severus’ sleeve.

“How did Mary get to Beth’lem?” he asked.

“I believe she rode on a donkey,” Severus replied.

Harry digested this. “Did the donkey talk?”

Severus smothered a smile. “I have no idea.”

The boy’s brow furrowed as he pondered this mystery. Then his eyes lit up. “It was the donkey who went to Bremen! It could _sing_.”

“That would certainly enliven the journey,” Severus replied gravely.

“And it sang to baby Jesus.” Harry’s voice was growing too loud for propriety as he began to sing, “ _Jesus our brother, strong and good…_ ”

“Not yet, Harry. Wait for the choir.”

Harry finished the verse under his breath, and the painted angels in the windows kept time on their instruments of golden glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I head-canon that Hogwarts castle creates spaces for worship to suit the needs of the various students enrolled at the time. They bring in the required officiants as required (even if said officiants are Muggles). The professors (and especially the Heads of House) take turns supervising the students at services as needed.
> 
> The "incomprehensible words of the evangelist" refers to the beginning of the Gospel according to John (In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...) which is read at the third service on Christmas Day according to the Book of Common Prayer.
> 
> Harry is referring to the Grimms’ fairy tale, The Town Musicians of Bremen.
> 
> The carol Harry starts to sing is The Friendly Beasts, which comes from the 12th Century Latin song, Orientis Partibus, which describes the donkey coming to pay homage to the infant Jesus.


	10. gold

After service, Harry dragged Severus over to the nativity set. The life-sized wood carvings were painted with brilliant colors and etched with gold. Mary knelt by the manger, rocking her infant in time to a music only the pure at heart could hear. 

“Where are the kings?” demanded Harry after he’d counted every last sheep.

“They’ll be along directly,” replied the minor canon as he snuffed out the candles on the altar nearby. “On Epiphany. And they’ll bring the gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Holy Child.”

The minor canon was a twig of a fellow, liable to blow away in the first stiff breeze. One would never think the Muggle had faced down a griffin in his youth. 

“Why?” asked Harry.

“Yes, they seem like strange presents for a baby. They’re symbols, you see. The gold is because Jesus is the King of Kings, the frankincense is because He is God, and the myrrh is because He sacrificed Himself for our sins. But I dare say that you found something rather more entertaining under your Christmas tree this morning.”

Harry nodded solemnly. Severus attempted to usher the boy along to dinner, but the child was rooted to the spot, contemplating the statue of the infant. 

At last, Harry pulled the yo-yo that he’d unwrapped with such delight that morning out of his pocket. With the dignity befitting the mightiest of kings, he set it in the manger. 

“Happy Christmas, Jesus,” he said. “I hope You like it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The minor canon in this chapter is the same one who appeared in Frank Stockton’s tale, The Griffin and the Minor Canon.


	11. ice

Charity and Minerva followed Severus and Harry down to the dungeon after Christmas dinner. Harry sang snatches of carols on the way down the stairs, tangling the verses together, and nearly falling over his feet in his distraction.

“Look Auntie Cherry! Look Auntie M!” Harry shouted. “We have a tree!”

“Why it’s beautiful, Harry,” Charity replied.

Minerva clapped Severus on the back. “It makes these rooms almost cosy,” she teased. “Have the ghosts been to visit you, Ebenezer?”

Severus glowered at her. “Another word like that out of you, and your present will turn into coal.”

She laughed at that, and the party descended into a merry chaos as Harry and his adopted aunts opened their gifts. Severus pressed glasses of mulled wine into the women’s hands, and set a mug of hot chocolate for Harry on the table (far enough from the edge to prevent spilling) before retiring to his armchair with his own cup of wine to enjoy his annual Christmas headache. Charity, who was blessed with a golden voice and a clever ear, intoned a carol. Harry was quick to pick up the tune, and Minerva followed along with somewhat more eagerness than talent.

Oddly, the amateur concert failed to irritate Severus’ pounding head. The warmth from the whole bloody day seeped into his veins and wrapped itself around his heart, melting the last of his icy fortress; until he caught himself humming along with the tidings of comfort and joy. 


	12. gift

One would have thought the overstimulation of the day would lead to an early bedtime for young Master Harry. But one would have been wrong. As the hours spun on towards the witching hour, Harry sat on the rug before the hearth, staring up at the Christmas tree. The ladies had long since retired to their own rooms in the upper parts of the castle. The wireless on the mantel played carols on the lowest volume Harry would accept, and the child waved his fingers in time to the music, too tired, at last, to sing.

Severus’ eyes were heavy, but he was loath to send the child to bed. Harry was caught in a wondrous enchantment. It would take an even baser creature than Severus Snape to break such a spell.

When the music gave way to the dull realities of the nightly news (as it must, even in the magical realm) Harry gave a great yawn. He pushed himself to his feet and wove his way through the maze of wrapping paper on the floor to the window where Polaris shone bright over the snow.

“Tell Mummy and Daddy Happy Christmas,” he said.

“I think we’ve had enough Christmas for one day now,” Severus observed gently.

“Time for bed?”

“Time for bed.”

Harry started for his room, but paused on the threshold. “I love you, Uncle Sev’rus. Happy Christmas.”

Severus’ eyes blurred, his heart wounded and blessed in equal measure. “Happy Christmas, Harry. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Twelfth Night everyone!


End file.
